Tag: exhausted

Apparently I have little to comment and share this weekend… I guess the rodeo has me worn out like crazy already, leaving me with hardly any energy to write up more than a sentence of heartfelt nonsense by the time I make it home and to bed each night. 😛

I’m a little off today from all the back-and-forth wth emotions. Things were super positive this morning, which was an extreme contrast to yesterday evening and last night. And then things were dreadful for a little while, and then tolerably comfortable for a bit, and then frustrating, and then quite good, and then wonderful, and then mediocre, followed by a burst of totally awesome tonight, and then back down to this near-numbness of right now, absorbing it all as I review the day. I’m not ready to sleep yet, so I don’t want to do my sleep stuff yet.

I guess that means it’s a good time to play some ukulele. Let it all go. Pull an Elsa, but in a warm, island-y way. Yeah.

I’ve been on the phone with my college flatmate tonight, talking about writing. Apparently, I actually do have some fun and crazy ideas that would be really interesting for people to read – she didn’t even understand how I got to the sorts of ideas that regularly come to mind, simply as the normal order of thinking in my head. So, I guess that’s not so normal as I’d thought it to be, having such ideas so casually and regularly.

The thing is, I haven’t set up sitting down to do it. Not yet, anyway, and not for long enough. I’ve noticed that writing at night is not the way to go for me. For other things, sure – I can do loads of physical movement at night. For writing, however, I’m next to hopeless, it feels. I don’t feel much like writing anything in the first place at night, and so I struggle to find something to write, and then I make loads of errors in what I do finally write. It just isn’t a good combination.

Speaking of combinations, I was talking with students in my geometry class today about how math can be useful in life in cool ways. One example was from a show my stepdad watches about the TV show “The Walking Dead”. It’s sort of a behind-the-scenes sort of show, and this particular bit that I saw was talking about everything they had to do in order to set up a car crash. It was really cool, seeing everything broken down, all of the things they had to organize to make it work. The best part, perhaps, was seeing how it was pure geometry and physics that made the crash work flawlessly.

The other example was in a little photo shoot I was witnessing (and had to abandon for distress), in which the photographer said that they were supposed to be sitting in a Christmas tree formation. But she didn’t do anything to make this happen. She didn’t even seem to know what needed to be done for this shape to happen. (The people in charge definitely seemed to be lacking in general crowd control and effective instructions arenas, too.) It occurred to me that she never considered just getting the number of people – I’d have done it ahead of time, but on the sport would have worked just finely, too – expected in the photo, and dividing them up into the necessary number of people per row, based on the exact shape desired and the number of rows available. I was about to begin the calculations as I watched, but then realized that no one was going to listen to me anyway, so it was better if I just left the stressful situation, since that was the only thing I actually could do in the situation. So, I left. But it proved to be a good example to the kids in class at how math is present in life in ways that people don’t even consider. Had the photographer thought about math, – and it is likely that she didn’t, because she wasn’t very confident in or in love with math while in school – the whole photo shoot could have gone loads better than it did. And they could have had the Christmas tree, and even decorated with “lights” or an outline, using the different shirt and jacket colors present and available. But she didn’t, so none of that happened.

I miss my bed in Japan. My bedroom, especially, is one thing I miss most these days. It was a haven for me. No matter what kind of chaos or boredom lurked in my life, every night, my bedroom awaited me in calm, open, and empty space… in beauty. I shut my doors, and was safe in my retreat from everything else. Only love and blessings were ever allowed into my bedroom. I wasn’t even allowed to walk in it if I hadn’t recently showered. Clean clothes, my ukulele and ukulele music, my nighttime books, and water and tissues were just about all that ever went in there, aside from a clean me and my bed.

My bedroom now is slightly larger, but filled with boxes and stuff… a sentimentality to which I am not so sure I still want to cling. I think I am afraid that I will forget the memories, if I get rid of the objects. I do not, for the most part, want the objects, but the memories and the ways I felt. Without the objects, what will remind me?

This morning, I woke up around five in an extreme panic. My bed was shaking, and my subconscience was sure that the building soon would be tumbling down – this was a massive earthquake, and it was lasting… already almost a minute before I could get my bearings and turn on a light.

And then, as I discovered where exactly I was, – in the USA, and specifically Texas – it took me another moment to discover what was happening. I knew that it was not an earthquake. It was not the gymnasium over my head, either, as it was in a place where I briefly worked immediately after arriving to the US. So, what was it? ‘What is going on?!’ my insides demanded to know.

And then I heard it: a wind-filled noise, accompanied by a soft chugging sound of deep iron. It was a train. While the sounds of trains have never much bothered me, even when I lived beside tracks in the past, I’m not sure that I ever noticed a shaking tied to the passing of one. Nonetheless, I experienced it in full force this morning.

After I realized that it was simply a passing train, – though, I was still surprised at how much it shook the house and its contents – and not an earthquake, I mentally noted that I didn’t even have to start panicking. A few seconds after this noting, my body finally began to respond to the threat of the earthquake. It had been as though I were in a fight or flight mode, and so hadn’t had the various responses tied to the fear in the perceived situation. Once I was safe, they all kicked into action, and I began shaking all by my self. I was physically panicking now. My breathing tighted to a near non-existence, and my heart raced. My skin prickled all over, and I had to force myself to swallow and then take slow, deep breaths.

Do you ever find yourself lying in bed at night, thinking about nothing in particular, and just lying there with the last light still illuminated, unsure of what you are doing? It happens to me every so often. I wonder if it has to do with stress or decisions, or even something else like that. I was doing it just now, though I’m not sure why. I just know that I suddenly realized that I am uttlery exhausted, and yet I have not even tried to do my bit-o-writing and reading for the night so that I could actually go to sleep – I was just observing my fairy lights on the wall (my main night lights and room illuminations ever since I saw it at my cousin’s friend’s house when we all were in college), and not intentionally. It’s as though I want the moment or night to last longer, without realizing the want… or something like that, anyway.